Ok Thanks

Someone sent the Facebook link. Here it is.

Someone else friended us.

So now we have one friend.

That is really all you need, if it is a good friend.

Caprifections

The farmer is planning what to make later this spring when everyone starts kidding and the milk is back in. There are going to be a lot of caprifections.

For now the farmer is going to make soap and there won't be anything fancy about it it is the plainest soap in the world. But it has goat milk in it and it gets you clean.

Meanwhile there has been yet another internet snafu. We all agreed, even the Nubian crosses, that we hate Facebook so we didn't have a Facebook page until about ten years after everyone else got one. But finally we got one.

Then the farmer forgot where the Facebook page was and so started another one. Forgetting also that the first page had some Facebook friends on it. Then the farmer possibly might have started a third Facebook page and so the two previous, one with friends and one friendless, were just floating around out there like suitcases thrown overboard from the Titanic waiting to sink to the bottom of the Internet Ocean.

But anyway, if you find our Facebook page please tell us where it is. The newest one has Pebbles on it.

To our old Facebook friends drifting around the Doldrums and the Wide Sargasso Sea - bon voyage! Until we friend again!

The Unmentionables

From the amount of publicity received, you might think there is only one goat living here, the Bitter Pill. That is not the case.

There are quite a few goats here who never get their names in the paper because they don't go to shows (Betty) and aren't the oldest (Brandy) or the youngest (Clementine), or the biggest (Betsy Bigoletto), or the sweetest (Jammies), or the fastest (Rosie). Or the most intellectually challenged (this is a photo finish between the apple and the tree, Pinky and her mother Tangy).

There is Eo, still plotting against The Empire. When you see Eo on her little hill sometimes you can tell she is thinking,  "I could burn this place down."

There is Penrose the Kindly.

There is Hannah Belle the magnificent, the matriarch now of the Nigerian herd, and Baby Belle's oldest daughter.

Also there is Pinky Jr. a bridesmaid in many categories (2d biggest, 2d sweetest e.g.) but never a bride.

Also Xie Xie, let's not forget her triumph at the state fair, and what about those little black mini-manches, what are their names, anyway?

If I of all goats can celebrate these poignant nobodies, I don't see why you can't. Let's all raise a glass of milk to the unmentionables, toiling in obscurity.

To the Nobodies! You know who you are! I applaud you!

Rhymes With Sing

Some people scoffed my hummingbird but it was a real hummingbird and if you don't believe in hummingbirds I want to tell you something else. Yesterday it was 64 degrees here and it was one of the ten most beautiful days of the year.

And if you don't believe in beautiful days I want to tell you something else. Yesterday when the cosseted barn dwellers were turned out in their pasture Brandy the old bag took a look around and shook her head and sniffed the air and then gave a little nod of assent, agreeing with herself, and then she took off running down the hill and when she got up to speed she turned sideways and went leap-dancing the rest of the way. Leap-dancing to such an extent that there was no choice but for everyone to follow her and there was a massive leap dance possibly celebrating the fact that it is Leap Year but certainly celebrating something else as well.

Brandy is thirteen years old and as I mentioned she is an old bag and she did not get to be as old as she is  by wasting energy and she only does her leap-dancing in one season of the year. And it is not the summer, the fall, or the winter.

And if you can't figure out what season it is you could read the title again for a clue. But don't say it out loud, because that is a jinx.

The BP and the Boys

Well the upshot of the BP was that she was put on hold.

But if she comes back in heat in two weeks she will be bred to our new gentleman caller Chaos. We just call him K. He is in an outstanding specimen. His awesome pedigree is here: K's pedigree.

That brings us to the subject of the gentlemen. We have two different gentleman this year and they have never even gotten on the blog. One is K, he is a Nigerian with the magnificent beard so admired in the Baby Belle family and so lacking in so many other less resplendent families although I will not mention any names. We hope that he will be able to spruce up the offspring of some of the shabbier members of the farm.

Then there is also Fred. He came here as a baby but soon refused his bottle for reasons known only to him which kept him very small and spindly for quite a while but now he suddenly got a growth spurt and it looks like he might grow forever. Fred has a long fancy name and he is a very splashy black and white color, which makes up somewhat for the sad fact that he is a LaMancha.

Click here for Fred's pedigree for anyone who cares.

If you are a LaMancha-loving-shut-in you will realize that his pedigree includes some breed superstars including more than one National Champion. That is a big if however.

Fred's mother was the 2011 Oregon State Fair champion and she is rather spectacular. Who cares, I know. The downside of that of course is that, yes, he is from Oregon.

And yes, he has a lot of strange ideas. He also really enjoys playing with Wendell, which I think is disturbing.

Secret Entry

Dear Diary, Tomorrow is Groundhog Day. But today I saw a hummingbird. The winter is over. Do not tell anyone. BBJ

Pebbles. Again.

Well all roads lead to The Bitter Pill, and once again Pebbles has managed to get back in the news. It was decided that Pebbles would not be bred this year because she was a very late kid.

Why should she ever be bred, the world is full of Bitter Pills as it is. Maybe her big little sister Sandy could be bred instead. And what would the Bitter Pill's progeny be named? Shale and Mossyrock? Limestone and Riprap? It seems like a dead end in so many ways.

But Sandy never came into heat or if she did she did it quietly inside the barn while it was raining cats and dogs and nobody noticed or cared.

Then yesterday the BP came into a howling heat, she stood by the upper pasture gate screaming like a banshee. There are no bucks up there which shows you how refined her matrimonial skills are but anyway. Wendell came out and made bug eyes at her and that only encouraged her. It sounded like someone had shut their hoof in a car door.

The rest of us moved discreetly down the hill, pretending not to notice anything, and eventually the farmer came out and said, " you will have to be quiet Pebbles, because you are not going to be bred this year."

But then a little glimmer came into the farmer's eye, not exactly an idea but some little blip on the radar, a sub-idea or possibly a notion.

"Wait a minute," said the farmer, "isn't it next year now?"

.........Stay Tuned

Baa Ram Ewe

If a pig can do it, why not? On the other hand, this would never work with goats, especially not here. Betsy Bigoletto would just pick this guy up by the ears and throw him over the fence. Adios, Champis.

Visualize Baby Belle Jr.

I have been visualized. And you can be, too.

California

What happened was there was a giant snowstorm followed by a mild windstorm followed by a deluge of rain, followed by a large windstorm. Telephone poles and trees came crashing down. The farmer went to California and we had a farmsitter.

Sky Blue got something stuck in her throat and puzzled the farmsitter by hacking and choking to such an alarming degree that the farmsitter called the farmer in California.

"I hate to mention it," the farmsitter said, "but one of the little goats has suddenly gotten very sick and can't stop coughing."

"One of the little goats?" the farmer said suspiciously. "which one? is it Pebbles?"

"I think it is," the farmsitter opined vaguely, because the farmsitter can't really tell Nigerians apart.

"Text me a picture right away," barked the farmer, even though the farmer is a devout Luddite. The farmsitter texted the picture all the way to California and it was a picture of Sky Blue and the farmer responded breezily, "she will be fine," which was in fact exactly what happened within about a half hour since Sky Blue is such a pig that she gobbles everything in sight and after she stopped choking her dry cob she went to sleep just like a cat in a puddle of light on a windowsill.

Then the next day the farmer came home and surveyed the knee-deep mud in the barnyard and the overflowing Lost Beaver Lake and the bedraggled ponies with their belly straps undone for the 80 millionth time and the fir branches blown every which way and the farmer walked back to the house muttering.

"California."

Now for Some Rain and Wind

Harrowing day yesterday. Ice storm in the morning, trees snapping all day long. Power went out and we thought it would be out for several days since we are almost always last in line to get the power back on. But the power came back on! Then went out. Then came on! Then went off. Then came on! Etc.

None of us set foot outside the barn.

Today's forecast is for flooding, snow melt and rain then wind. Right now the rain is falling in the form of snow.

But the power is on!

Out of the Frying Pan

Ice storm on the way,,,,

Pebbles in the Snow

Pebbles spent 42 seconds in the snow before calling her ride to come pick her up. 11 inches.

Update from Inside the Blizzard

I don't know who is running the weather reports. But it must be a Nubian.

They said that it would be Snowmageddon in Seattle with ten inches of snow. It looks like they have about two inches.

They said we would get about five inches of snow. We have eight.

They said that the snow was tapering off.

And yet mysteriously it is still snowing hard.

Pebbles has volunteered to go and have her picture taken in the virgin snow to see if it is up to her hipbones as promised.

Now she will learn what the word "volunteered" means around here.

Peninsula Snow Diary

The snow has begun again.

There is a blizzard. That sound is the farmer cussing.

The snow has sort of stopped.

Clementine doesn't feel good so she is wearing the velcro sport jacket.

Now it is raining and the snow is getting pocked with raindots. There are also a lot of berries in the snow. It is unsightly. Note to self: don't eat snowberries.

Laddy the Tennessee Walker has undone his belly strap for the 38th time in the last week. That sound is the farmer cussing.

Weather says 10 inches of really wet snow from the South tomorrow. This means someone with two legs will have to go up on the roof of the dairy and brush the snow off because otherwise it is too heavy. That sound is the farmer cussing.

We are deciding which of our Caprifections we will make next spring. Certainly cajeta. But what about goat milk fudge or black bottom goat cheese cupcakes?  Also perhaps some Baby Belle's buttons, this is just a cute little snowball of chevre with goat milk caramel on top. (cajeta.) Oh well, right now we don't have any milk, it's very sad. I did notice that Abby is secretly still hoarding some milk but no one has noticed.

An ugly gray yellow sun ball is trying to peek through the snow clouds.

Pinky is BWAAAing.

It is rai-now-ing now. That is rain and snow at the same time.

More later. Must get under the tree.

Waiting for White

In this film, titled "The Day Before the Snow," everyone prepares ominously for the snow which is forecast to reach to Pebbles' hipbones. It is a Bergmanesque Goat Ballet without any dancing.

Picnic Cancelled

Well it has been no picnic here. If anyone is wondering whether it has been a picnic, no, it has not been a picnic. Betsy Bigoletto had gotten moved out of our pasture which is erroneously known as the fat girl pasture because the fat girls were getting thin because Betsy was eating all the food that we were all supposed to share. It was quite shocking really. 

So anyway Betsy got transferred to the high and mighty pasture where she even cowed Wronny with her sheer bulk. This was fantastic, we could actually grab a smattering of grain here and there. Finally, a few blades of hay. 

Meanwhile Betsy started wearing out her welcome up at the Hilton. She hurt Brandy's feelings. She t-boned Pinky. She tried to pick Clementine up  by her tailfeathers. Nobody seemed to mind any of that.

Then one day in her zeal for calories she bit one of Pebbles' ears. You could have heard a pin drop, because the farmer was standing right there when she did it. Pebbles was rushed immediately to the grain room so that she could stuff herself with grain in an effort to assuage the deep pain of earbiting which only those who have ears can truly appreciate.

So big surprise now we have Betsy back. And on top of that there is a report of impending snow. So there you have it.

A Break in the Weather

The New Year is upon us and it is a lot like the old year. Today it rained a monsoon and we were stuck inside. Then the farmer threw us out just as it was getting dark to muck the stalls. 

"Get out," the farmer snapped at everybody. "There is a break in the weather and you can all go and pee outside for a change." 

Not so much as an "if you feel like it." Or "if you wouldn't mind."

Everyone shambled outside except Brandy who didn't feel like it. The farmer was not in a mood.

"Fine," snapped the farmer, and Brandy got booted into the fat girl pasture.

Not so much as a "right this way." Or a "thank you for coming." No, not today.

"What does it mean, 'a break in the weather?' "  asked Pebbles as we stood under a tree observing the downpour burbling in sheets and rivers all around us. The winter ducks quacked distantly from Lost Beaver Lake down the hill.

"It means the weather is broken," explained Abby. "Like the roof on the buck shed."

"Where the rain comes in?" asked Pebbles.

"Exactly," said Abby, pointedly.

Pinky began to bawl bitterly. She was standing directly under the downpour, experiencing the break in the weather up close and personal, and the Nubian part of her brain was filling with sadness, a great lake of sadness that could only be expressed through bitter bawling.

"BWAA!" she called. 

"BWAA!" she responded, in fierce agreement with herself.

That was today.

The Greatest Hits of 2011

Well it is the end of the year and time to review the most popular posts of 2011.

Coming in at Number One was a post about Raw Milk Pants. We are going to make a pair for Wendell for the spring.

Number One: Raw Milk Pants.

At Number Two was a post that is several years old. But it has always been very popular, especially at Christmastime. We couldn't understand why until we got some emails from Japan about it. When people are learning to speak English in Japan they read a lot of Dickens. When they get to the end of "A Christmas Carol," they don't understand what it means. So they google the phrase "Total Abstinence Principle." And then they get sucked up into the long winding Internet tubes and spit out at a little Dickensian goat farm in Western Washington. God Bless Them, Every One.

Number Two: The Total Abstinence Principle.

At Number Three we have the mysteriously popular triumph of Pebbles at the State Fair.

Number Three: That's Right.

At Number Four, the Return of B.D., starring Saint Penrose.

Number Four: Uninvited Guest.

At Number Five: the first photo of Clementine the Fairy Goat.

Number Five: In a Cavern, In a Canyon, Excavating for a Mine.

Number Six needs no introduction.

Number Six: At Your Service.

Number Seven: Adorable baby goat needs new name.

Number Eight: Horrors, Pebbles outgrows her stolen parka. 

Number Nine: Occupy the KP.

Number Ten: My New Sisters.

How to Lose the Post-Christmas Blues

Well we got all the way through Christmas without any much rain. So then everybody had to put a jinx on things by talking about how this could turn out to be the driest December ever. So the dam burst and it has settled into a steady downpour which makes everyone feel gloomy and by the amount of rain we have had the last two days even with several days left in the month I can pretty much guarantee that this will not be the driest anything.

We also were entering a post-Christmas depression because we had eaten all the treats we were given including a bag of stale peanuts the farmer found in a box that went to the fair three months ago and I waited to see if Betsy would suffer any ill effects after gobbling several of them but they were just fine except they tasted a bit ribbony.

Anyway what should happen but we get one of those little pink slips in the mailbox telling the farmer there is a package at the post office since the USPS out here can't be bothered to bring you the packages, they will only bring the little pink slips as if they tried to deliver the package, even going so far as to hand you the slip when you happen to be down at the mailbox with its jolly note saying that we "tried" to deliver the package but you weren't home or something. But anyway that is another story for a grumpy day.

The farmer went to the post office and there was a package from Missouri for Pebbles.

Inside many many excellent treats, including peanuts and pretzels and instructions for how they should be distributed.

Some of the stipulations were a bit onerous ("be nice to Pebbles", etc) but in light of the treats belonging mostly to Pebbles I have decided to abide by them. Until the treats are gone.